Chapter 3 — Library Sparks

Rosie

The library had always been my sanctuary. Its quiet hum, the faint scent of aged paper, and the comforting weight of a dozen well-loved books stacked nearby—it was a space where the world outside couldn’t touch me. I pushed open the heavy wooden door, its hinges groaning slightly, and stepped into the familiar warmth. The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, casting golden squares onto the polished wooden floor. The librarian, a kind older woman with a crocheted shawl draped over her shoulders, gave me a small nod from behind the counter.

I drifted toward the fiction section, my fingers brushing along the spines of the books as I walked. My English project loomed over me—a daunting analysis of character archetypes in classic literature. Georgia had suggested we meet at the coffee shop to work on it, but I’d insisted on the library instead. Here, the only distractions were whispers and the occasional creak of a chair, not the buzz of espresso machines or Georgia’s endless commentary on cute baristas.

Balancing a small stack of books in my arms, I maneuvered toward my favorite corner by the west window. The armchair there, with its slightly lumpy but welcoming cushions, hugged you like an old friend. It was the perfect place to disappear into a world where grocery lists, Ava’s snack requests, and the way Zack Vella’s voice had been circling in my mind couldn’t follow.

Turning the corner, I collided with someone solid. The books tumbled from my arms, hitting the floor with a muted thud, and warm, steady hands shot out to catch my shoulders. My heart leapt, a sudden jolt that made my pulse quicken.

I looked up into piercing blue eyes.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” My words tangled on my tongue as he let go of my arms and crouched down to retrieve my books.

“No, it’s my bad. I wasn’t paying attention,” Zack said, his calm voice carrying a faint undercurrent of awkwardness. He straightened, holding one of my books, his brow furrowing as he read the title aloud. “Pride and Prejudice.”

“That’s me,” I said, grabbing the book from him a little too quickly. “English project.”

His movements were deliberate as he handed me the rest of the stack, almost hesitant. “It’s a good one. My mom’s a Jane Austen fan,” he said, surprising me. “She makes me watch the movie adaptations with her sometimes.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the mental image of Zack Vella, hockey star, sitting through hours of Regency-era courtship rituals. It was so unexpected, almost endearing.

“Which version?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“The one with Keira Knightley,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s… intense.”

“Good choice,” I said, mirroring his smirk with a small, involuntary smile. “But you should try the BBC version. Colin Firth might change your mind.”

One of his eyebrows arched slightly, his smirk growing. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tip.”

I hugged the books tighter to my chest, trying to steady the warmth creeping up my neck. Before I could come up with something else—or, more likely, find an excuse to retreat—Zack shifted slightly, his gaze flicking toward the armchair behind me.

“This your spot?” he asked, nodding toward it.

“Uh, yeah. Usually,” I said, caught off guard by the question.

“Figures,” he said, leaning casually against a nearby bookshelf. “It’s got a good vibe. Quiet.”

“That’s the point,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended. The words were out before I could stop them, and I immediately winced internally. His presence was unsettling me, though not in a bad way. It was the kind of unsettling that made me hyper-aware of the weight of my books, the way my hair must look slightly frizzy, the fact that I was holding my breath.

Zack tilted his head, and something flickered in his expression—not quite hurt, but close. Then, just as quickly, his usual cool detachment was back in place, like a mask slipping effortlessly into position.

“Needed to pick something up,” he said simply, holding up a slim paperback I hadn’t noticed before. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

“Oh,” I said, feeling a little foolish. “That’s a good one. Funny… and existential.”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Some of us hockey guys do read. A shocking concept, I know.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly, my words tumbling over each other. “I just… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He smiled faintly, his lips curving into that smirk again. “Fair enough. But I’ll let you get back to your… Colin Firth fan club.”

Before I could think of a clever retort, he turned and walked away, the paperback swinging loosely in his hand. I stood there for a moment, caught somewhere between flustered and intrigued. Why did he have to say something so unexpected, so… disarming?

I sank into the armchair, setting my books on the small table beside me. I opened Pride and Prejudice in my lap, but the words blurred together on the page. My thoughts kept circling back to Zack—his calm voice, the easy confidence in his smirk, the way his blue eyes held a quiet intensity. And then there was that flicker of something vulnerable—however brief—that peeked through before he’d masked it again.

My fingers brushed against the bracelet on my wrist, the cool metal grounding me as memories of Mom’s words surfaced: “It’s a reminder. Of love. Of family. Of strength.” The thought steadied me, but it didn’t stop the restless energy simmering beneath my skin.

“Rosie! There you are!” Georgia’s voice cut through my thoughts, breaking the quiet as she and Lily approached. Georgia’s fiery curls caught the sunlight streaming through the window, and she dropped her bag onto the floor with a dramatic sigh, flopping into the chair opposite me.

“Please tell me you’ve made more progress on this project than I have,” she groaned, pulling out her notebook and twisting it to show off the margins filled with elaborate doodles.

“I’ve got a few notes,” I said, closing my book and forcing myself to look composed.

“Liar,” Georgia teased, green eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve been daydreaming again, haven’t you?”

Lily, ever the calm voice of reason, gave Georgia a gentle nudge. “Not everyone thrives in chaos like you do, Georgie. Maybe Rosie’s just tired.”

“Chaos breeds creativity,” Georgia declared, throwing her arms out wide.

“And migraines,” Lily countered with a small, knowing smile, pulling out her neatly organized papers.

Their banter was comforting, a familiar rhythm that I usually welcomed. But today, my mind wandered. I glanced toward the circulation desk just in time to see Zack chatting quietly with the librarian. He turned slightly, his gaze briefly catching mine. His expression softened for a moment—just a fraction, just for me. And then he was gone, disappearing out the door and into the sunlight.

“Earth to Rosie,” Georgia sang, waving a hand in front of my face. “Who are you staring at?”

“No one,” I said quickly, my voice an octave higher than usual. “Just… zoning out.”

Georgia’s grin turned sly. “Is that so? Because I could’ve sworn I saw you talking to Zack Vella earlier.”

Lily’s eyebrows rose. “Zack? The hockey player?”

“It wasn’t anything,” I said, forcing a casual shrug. “He just bumped into me. Literally.”

“Of course he did,” Georgia said, leaning forward eagerly. “Details, please. Was it flirty? Did he give you one of those smoldering looks?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks betrayed me, warming under her scrutiny. “It wasn’t like that. He was just… polite. End of story.”

Georgia tilted her head, still grinning like she knew something I didn’t. “Uh-huh. If you say so.”

Lily, ever perceptive, fixed me with a thoughtful look. “Are you okay? You seem… distracted.”

I hesitated, gripping the edge of my notebook. “I’m fine,” I said softly. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

Lily nodded, her quiet presence reassuring as always. Georgia, meanwhile, was already pulling out her phone, likely to text half the school about my supposed library encounter with Zack.

I sighed, burying my face in my hands. This was going to be a long afternoon.

And yet, as I glanced back toward the door, I couldn’t help but wonder. Zack Vella—hockey star, town golden boy—had just wandered into my sanctuary as though he belonged there. The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

For now, I needed to focus. But no matter how hard I tried, my heart wouldn’t quite settle.